People Like Us
by precious-passenger
Summary: Kurt attempts suicide four days before his final NYADA audition. He's figuring out what to do between his therapy sessions and befriending a fellow patient in the summer . Warning for suicide attempt and depressing thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

Title: People Like Us

A/N: I'm currently working on a multi-chapter called "Dreams Undreamt" and this kept driving me crazy, demanding to be written.

This is set in the second half of season three. Everything's canon except Kurt doesn't have a boyfriend and didn't meet Blaine. Yes, the Karofsky happened but Kurt stayed at McKinley with glee club his on-off bodyguard.

Warning for suicide attempt, some brief yet _might-get-triggering_ description of blood and the said attempt, in addition to occurrences of depressing and suicidal thoughts.

**Please take the trigger warning seriously. Both Kurt and I are in a terrible place right now and this fic ain't no sunshine and rainbows.**

Title is from Kelly Clarkson's song with the same title.

* * *

It was four days before his final NYADA audition when Kurt committed suicide. Well, attempted suicide… technically. There weren't any rushed decisions, drastic yes, but never rushed. It had been months since the S-word was hanging over his head, clouding his every thought. Months of fighting with himself.

It all started as a normal day. He never started that day saying to himself, "hmm, what a lovely day! Let me get rid of myself this afternoon." He drove to school, went through his lessons, ate lunch with the glee kids, getting updates from them, with Rachel cancelling their NYADA-themed sleepover and Finn informing that he'd be having a late night call of duty marathon at Puck's, which was code for, "I'm going to have sex at Rachel's tonight." He drove home. Done his assignments, watched Rent, depressing but usual choice.

He had gotten into his bed, then, as he'd do most of the days. He started playing games on his phone. It was either Doodle Jump, Angry Birds or Subway Surfers, he doesn't remember and doubts it actually matters. He remembers thinking a lot during the game, nothing particular, just a cloud of sadness and general disappointment… over everything.

After a few rounds of losing, he had gotten up and sat on the floor beside his bed and drew a razor, just one slash, against his left wrist. And that's all he remembers.

Or at least that's what he'd told his therapist.

_Lies… _

You couldn't forget an experience like that no matter how old or how deranged you become. A memory like that follows through your whole lifetime. A lifetime that Kurt had chosen not to have anymore.

He remembers crying a lot, tears that broke away the numbness, mixing with the blood running down, so much blood.

He remembers pain, raw and real physical pain that overpowered the emotional one.

He remembers slipping in and out of consciousness, hearing voices, which he later on found out had been Finn. He'd been kicked out of Rachel's house after Rachel's dads had made a spontaneous plan to take the family to the theater production of "Funny Girl".

He remembers waking up, confused and disoriented. Knowing he wasn't supposed to wake up, looking up at his wrist to see the bandages.

And then talking. Seventy two hours worth of talking.

No, he didn't leave a note. He didn't know what to say, "Sorry. I was too tired to go through another day" or "Don't miss me, I'm useless"?

Blame the society, high school and everyone for yet another statistic? A number?

No, he didn't feel like having another go at the whole killing himself thing. It just felt like another thing that he'd failed and had to live with the consequences.

What was he feeling? Nothing. Not a damn thing.

Why did he try to kill himself? It wasn't because he couldn't take anymore and snapped. Honestly, he was … bored.

So when he brought the razor to his wrist he'd thought to himself, "_give me one reason why not?_"

He'd had drawn a blank. So, instead of distracting himself, like many many times before, he shrugged to himself and just did it.

He'd gone to school after the weekend. Drowned in a haze of medication and rocking out long-sleeved shirts.

He didn't tell anyone what happened and why he'd taken a long weekend off. He had no comments on the fact that he'd blown off his audition. Absolutely none.

He guessed Finn must've talked or convinced Rachel to go easy on him, judging by the somehow mild version of Rachel Berry going on and on about how could he, how _dare _he ditch on her and how she'd blown the audition and Madam Tibbiduex away, without any actual resentment or anger directed at him.

The atmosphere in Hudson-Hummel household was... tense, to say the least. After getting discharged from the hospital and setting foot in his room again, nothing seemed to be the same. Not even his room and its newest addition, a simple rug.

He couldn't take Carole's gentle inquiries and not so subtle attempts to keep the peace or Burt's, _his dad's, _gaze full of questions and speeches and unsaid reassuring that "_everything will be fine, son_". Unsaid, because he was terrified of saying the wrong thing to set Kurt off. That was why Kurt was glad mostly for the stupor only pills could provide.

But then the blow-up happened. He remembered Burt's shouts, begs for him to say something and when he noticed his dad's red face and _oh, no…his heart…_ he started to cry. The first time he cried since… He sobbed for his dad for having such a disappointment of a son, but not for himself, never again for himself.

How he managed to perform at nationals and then graduate was a mystery. As Puck sum it up nicely, "dude, you got the answers to the math test wrong. Now I'm going to fail. Even stoner Brett had more corrects than you. I should've copied from him. You sure you're ok?"

No, he wasn't ok. Even Mr. Shuester found his performance at practices cold and detached and put him in the furthest row from the audience. Well, at least they placed first and he didn't have to repeat his senior year. That's what mattered.

Summer started and now that he had more free time in his hands, his therapy sessions doubled. He managed to avoid the glee club so far. It was easy considering that most of the seniors had plans. While _his_ plan … failed, miserably.

* * *

_"How are you, son?", "I'm fine, dad."_

_"How are you?" "I'm fine, Carole." _

And a simple grunt of acknowledgment was more than enough for Finn to start the car and drive him to or from his appointments. Thank grilled Cheesus that Finn stopped talking to him after...

The suicide attempt had been a mistake. He knew that much and that's all the progress he'd come to make.

He sat in his comfy chair, staring at the various painting hanging on the wall, shooting down the ideas, the attempts his therapist made to figure him out.

He glanced at the watch in front of him, learning his forty-five minutes session was up. He couldn't wait to get out of there. Back to the soft blanket only numbness would provide.

Thinking and pondering over reasons hurts.

He sits in the waiting room while the secretary's answering a few phone calls and looking through the huge notebook holding all the future appointments. A single text from Carole had announced that she's waiting in front of the building. Kurt wished they'd stopped babysitting him and let him drive. It's not like he'd drive himself off the bridge. The Navigator is too expensive for that, he chuckled darkly to himself.

Apparently he wasn't as quiet and sneaky as he'd thought. Immediately a pair of eyes shot up and met his briefly before widening comically and looking down again.

The owner was now clutching an upside down magazine and trying hard not to stare back.

_Cute_, he almost sighed… and then froze.

Alarms rang in his head and all his defense walls went up on a whim.

_Not now. Please. Not again._

_Typical Kurt. Falling for the first guy who smiles at his way._

_He's _not_ gay. Every cute guy who doesn't immediately insult or degrade him doesn't mean they aren't straight as an arrow._

_And if he is gay… he's messed up. He's in a shrink office, for goodness sake._

_He's not CUTE or GAY and Kurt's definitely not FALLING for him._

_And if he by a snowball's chance in hell were all these things, no matter how messed up the mystery boy was, he'd never, ever, care for Kurt._

"Your next appointment is on Monday, sweetie." The secretary tells and that's it. He gets up. That's his cue to leave.

"You're up next, Mr. Anderson."

His path to the door is blocked by the mystery boy, _Mr. Anderson,_ who's trying to head to the office.

The boy opens the door and steps behind, a slight smirk and a slight tilt of the head offering him to pass.

_Ladies First._

Nope, just a fairly cute homophobe, definitely not gay.

Kurt steps back and waits until the boy gives up and goes inside.

Kurt sits in the car, trying to forget the entire hour and how he imagined the boy's eyes turned sad before he left.

* * *

A/N: I've had it up to *here* with inspiring speeches and I spent about two hours watching various "It gets better" videos. Honestly, it should get better because I can think of only one or two things that could go wrong right now.

A/N: This is also known as the one with Kurt and Blaine meeting and, for now, not becoming Klaine.

So, what do you think? This is originally a one-shot and complete in my opinion. But I'm up for continuing this universe if inspiration hits or if the readers enjoy some more.


	2. Chapter 2

If you told Kurt in the beginning of the school year he would spend his summer after graduation commuting from home to a therapist office he'd laugh at you and told you you've gone crazy.

But that's what he did. Three times a week. He began working in the garage with his dad for the rest of the day. The shop tended to get very busy in the summer. But then, Burt began to hover over him all the time. And Kurt noticed that he wouldn't let him handle wrenches and some sharp tools. He'd catch the suspicious glances which turned to awkward smiles.

After a week, he got a job at Lima Bean serving coffees and unofficially quit working at garage. He really wanted to save some money and working at garage had been ideal in the past. More breaks and less rumors behind his back. It had been safe. But now, it became stifling and was slowly driving him crazy.

He still wasn't deemed sane enough to drive by himself but he worked around a schedule which allowed him half an hour of peace and quiet before someone, who usually was Finn, came to pick him up from his therapy sessions. It had been very unsettling and he felt like he was a criminal on a house-arrest. He used his half an hour to stretch his legs on a bench near the building, and think. It was a nice change of scene from his usual thinking place, staring at the ceiling of his room.

Today had been a particularly tough session. He didn't get why his therapist always insisted on linking his suicide attempt with something from his childhood. And several exercises included closing his eyes and remembering, which Kurt was no fan of.

"Hey, you okay?" he heard a voice say and he snapped out of his daydreams. It was that patient, Mr. Anderson. He'd noticed him a few times in the passing, always making sure to avoid eye contact.

"Silly question. What I meant to say was, mind if I sit here?" the stranger said with a smile.

Kurt shook his head and removed his legs from the bench, clearing a space for the boy. He sat down immediately and put Kurt's legs back up in the bench and on his lap. Kurt lets out a squeak in surprise. But it seems that the boy doesn't realize it as he seems lost in his own world.

"Umm, sir?"

"Oh, sorry! My name's Blaine, by the way."

"I'm Kurt."

"So, tough appointment today?"

"Yeah, you could say that. Although I'm not the one gripping total stranger's legs onto my lap, so I guess yours was worse."

"Oh, I did that? I'm sorry. I didn't realize I've done it. Old habits die hard, I guess." Blaine puts his hand in his hair in confusion but manages to scoot over so they're both sitting comfortably with minimum contact.

"To answer your question, nope. I got off easy today. I only had my medication dosage change. So it's going to be a jolly good rollercoaster ride for the next few days."

"Aah, sadly I'm not there yet. I'm only a month in."

"I'm on my sixth month. Let me guess, Prozac?"

"Nope, I'm more of a Zoloft guy." Kurt jokes easily.

"I see. Do you always sit here after your sessions?"

"Yeah, I can't handle talking to people immediately after I've spent nearly an hour of deep thoughts."

"Oh, sorry, I guess, for bothering you, then. I saw you sitting there and I knew I had to talk to you."

"Don't be silly. It was a nice change." They sit in comfortable silence, Kurt very aware of the precious times slipping away.

"Blaine, accepting the risk of sounding like a therapist, why did you feel that you had to talk to me?"

"Because I didn't want you to hate me," Blaine says, his voice losing the playful tone, "I didn't know what I did that offended you."

"I don't hate you. I guess I'm kind of skittish during my appointments. And well, I kind of thought you were a homophobic ass. Well, I guess you proved today how I was wrong."

"I did? Well, I think it's impossible to be homophobic when you're in fact gay."

Kurt reminds himself he needs to breathe.

"You'd be surprised." Kurt tells him bitterly. "But yeah, you definitely fell out of homophobe category when you hugged my legs. I mean, buy me coffee first!"

"You're not going to let me live through that, are you?" Blaine sighs dramatically.

"Probably not. Listen, I'd love to chat more but…"

"You have to go?"

"Yeah, actually. I see my brother driving just around the corner."

Blaine looks around until he spots Finn's car. "Oh, okay. I guess. Nice talking to you." He seems sad again, and so lost.

He doesn't reply to Kurt's _"Goodbye"_.

"Kurt, wait!" he hears him call, running over beside him.

"Would you be my friend?"

"What are we, kindergarten kids?" Kurt asks, shocked.

"No we're not. But I really need a friend right now." He looks like he's on the verge of tears and his voice breaks twice.

"Well then. I guess I could be a friend." Kurt feels the sudden need to comfort the boy.

"My appointment's same time, next week. See you then?"

"Okay, see you."

He watches Blaine practically skip toward the parking lot.

Well, _that, _was weird.


	3. Chapter 3

That night after dinner, Kurt was surprised when Burt volunteered to do the dishes with him. He suspected something was up. He was soon proved right when Burt cleared his throat and awkwardly put the dishtowel down.

"How are you, kid?"

Kurt resisted rolling his eyes, knowing it would ruin the effect of his reply, "I'm fine, dad."

"So, Finn tells me that he saw you talking with a boy today, care to explain?"

_Oh, so Finn actually talks. Only not in front of me._

"It's nothing important, dad. Finn is just over-reacting. He's just another patient and we've been talking, end of story."

"I just wanted to tell that if you wanted to hang out more with him, it's more than fine with me. I'm surprised that you're not throwing a fit over not driving your car."

"Isn't that my punishment? For, you know, killing myself?"

Kurt sees his father flinch and curses under his breath.

"It's never been a punishment. I've been talking to your physiatrist and she shares my concern about your lack of social life." Kurt groans at that. "No, don't make that face at me. You can drive your car to see this guy or whatnot, all I ask is you let me know, beforehand."

"That's ridiculous. I have plenty of social life. I meet tons of people in the coffee shop."

"Do you want to get your car back or not?"

"Fine. Thanks, dad," Kurt replies grumpily.

The rest of the week sucked. Carole refused to make up excuses for the few glee members who called that Kurt couldn't answer the phone right now. Burt was on his case for going out and having more fun. It might seem like a dream come true to most of kids he knew, but not him. Talking to random strangers, or even the few ones he managed to remember, seemed too much effort. He was going through the motions of being normal. And if he didn't actually _feel _normal? Well, screw normal.

Kurt was lost in his thoughts, enjoying the change of scene. He could see different groups of people rushing to get to their destination, passing him before he could study them more carefully. Some talking, laughing or just looking down, minding their own business. It was all so alive that seemed surreal.

He saw Blaine looking dejected when he exited. As he walked closer to the bench Kurt grew a bit nervous. Maybe Blaine didn't really mean that they should meet up next week. Maybe he did it to be nice. Sad, pathetic Kurt. Even random strangers felt responsible to cheer him up.

He could pinpoint the moment that Blaine glanced at the bench and noticed him. His entire face changed and broke into a brilliant smile. As if to get even more obvious, the boy decided to run, waving his hand all the way to Kurt.

"Hey, Kurt! You're here."

"Hello to you too!" Kurt couldn't help but laugh at the enthusiastic boy.

"I need to sit down," Blaine said and proceeded to do so.

"So, how shitty was your day?" he asks and Kurt smiles easily. He can get used to this.

"Pretty shitty."

"Ah, same. Is it just me or the way Susan taps on the armchair when she's waiting for you to talk makes you want to melt into the floor."

"Susan?"

"Oh, cute little soul sucking redhead monster?" when he saw Kurt's even more confused look, he sighed dramatically, "Dr. Crazy?"

"You mean, Dr. Adams! No, I hadn't noticed it, but I have a feeling I wouldn't stop noticing it from now on."

"Oops, my bad!" Blaine yawns. "Sorry, these sessions always makes me so tired."

Kurt also yawns and stretches. Blaine watches him in amusement. Kurt notices when his face falls, but before he can question it Blaine points at his wrist, "what happened?"

_The scar._

Kurt regretted a lot of things that afternoon. So many things had gone wrong. But one of the things he regretted most was the place of the scar. He had to accessorize it with either a bracelet or cover it with long sleeves. He had both but it was highly inconvenient for summer and his clothing choices weren't cooperating and the scar often reared its ugly head in front of his, and now Blaine's eyes.

"Oh, umm. It's nothing. Just an accident at work."

"Okay." Blaine says in a quiet voice.

An awkward silence falls.

"I'm sorry." They both say at the same time and the mood softens.

"What do you say we go get something to eat?" Kurt says.

"Coffee sounds good."

"Oh, no, please. I think I've gone allergic to coffee ever since I started working in the coffee shop. Even the smell gives me headaches. I saw an ice-cream place on my way over. Do you want to go?"

"Duh!"

Kurt sends a text to his dad and receives the ecstatic response when he spots the little ice-cream shop. Blaine didn't ask any uncomfortable questions, much to Kurt's relief. He didn't even seem to mind when Kurt explained he didn't like to listen to music in his car. He even looked a bit relieved.

Speaking of uncomfortable questions.

"Top three embarrassing moments of your life, go!" Blaine bellowed.

"I got drunk twice in high school. The first one I threw up on my super neat guidance councilor, the second one I started to cry and tell everyone in the party that I loved them."

"Aw, that's adorable."

"No, it really isn't. I apparently got all sentimental and mushy and everyone wouldn't stop making fun of it until the end of junior year."

"Come on, tell me the third one."

"Umm, the third one is kind of tame. It was my freshman year and I didn't have a car and had to go to school by bus. I just closed my eyes and let my head rest beside the window, when I felt someone touching my hand."

Blaine's eyes bugged out, "so, a crazy old creep?"

"Haha, no. The person hadn't let go of my hand and I opened my eyes, planning to run out, when I see it's a harmless looking old lady, seeming quite terrified. She was checking my pulse. She claimed I was too pale to be alive."

"You're kidding! Now, I don't have anything to top that. I don't even remember most of my getting drunk stories. I'm sad. I've been told I'm a hilarious drunk."

They entered the shop and said their orders, Kurt chose vanilla flavor and Blaine chose every color of rainbow the store offered. Kurt paid the cashier, much to Blaine's pouting. They stood there, watching the guy making a show of putting ice-cream on the cones. He began tapping his fingers idly on the counter.

He felt a warm hand on his wrist, tugging the sleeve back on his exposed skin. He looked back, shocked at the sudden contact, feeling the scar tingle.

"Don't want others to see your accident mark." Blaine whispered mysteriously, before turning his gaze away to retrieve the ice creams and moving to a random table in the corner.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey, guys. Thank you so much for the feedback, favorite and alerts I've gotten. You totally rock. I'm sorry if the chapters are short, but that's all I can manage right now, with real life demanding my attention. I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

* * *

Blaine is quite a chatterbox, Kurt finds out soon. Kurt is giving only his usual one-word responses, but it seems like Blaine doesn't mind. He only needs reminding to eat his ice cream to keep it from melting into his hand. It's not like Rachel Berry-madness babbling or when Mercedes is gushing about a cute boy. For once, Kurt is actually able to follow what the boy is talking about, which now seems to be about this amazing place he went for lunch.

He studies Blaine's body language from the corner of his eye. He seems well at ease with his surroundings and whenever his hand brushes with Kurt's, his reaction is far from repulsed grimace he'd seen from other boys or his own blushing and stuttered "sorry" utterance. He even lets his hand linger for a second or two, as if to reassure Kurt that he doesn't mind the contact. Whatever story he'd come up with that first day he met Blaine Anderson, this didn't fit with any version of it. This boy seemed way too happy and _normal_ to be going to therapy sessions at least once a week. Unless…

"Schizophrenia?" he asks before it registers in his mind that he had done so. He immediately bites down his lip and looks down, mortified.

There are few beats of silence in which Kurt silently comes up with plans to disappear or melt into the ground, and he sees Blaine's shaking hands on the table. What snaps Kurt out of his panic-ridden thoughts is the sounds of chuckles which soon erupt into uncontrollable giggles from the boy sitting across from him.

"No, I'm not schizophrenic. Sorry to disappoint. Just plain old bland depression with a couple of boring PTSDs thrown in the mix." Blaine explains with a slight smile, but his expression is nervous and closed. Kurt is basically a qualified actor and can decipher different expressions easily, no matter how much the other person tries to show otherwise. He knows that a tilt of head and a minimal adjustment of lips can be used to show that a person is content and relaxed but he also notices Blaine clutching the ice cream cone, the sweetened liquid dripping on his hand, but it seems that Blaine doesn't notice it. He sees the slight, involuntary tremor on the corner of his mouth which is a sign for muffled whimpers.

He finds himself reaching for the other boy, to smooth the creases on his forehead, to put the carefree look back on his face, he doesn't know. But his hand finds place on Blaine's shoulder, rubbing the tensed muscle for some seconds before he feels Blaine finally relax under his touch.

"Just depressed," he announces, gesturing with his other hand to himself, with an exaggerated proud smile. It works and Blaine laughs. Kurt removes his hand, after giving one final squeeze. "No more crazy talk, okay?"

Blaine nods his head gratefully and finishes his ice cream in silence. Kurt studies his movements curiously, not even noticing how he'd been staring at the boy until he heard the said boy clearing his throat self consciously and saying, "It's getting dark in about an hour. Is it okay if we head back?"

With that they get up from the table and move to Kurt's car. Kurt wouldn't admit that he's silently planning the longest route back to the parking lot, no sir.

* * *

"Is it okay to turn on the radio?" Kurt asks, feeling a bit guilty for not being a good friend, _is that what he was?_, and wanting to somehow make Blaine feel more relaxed.

"Sure, go ahead. But I have control over the channels," he teases solemnly.

"Deal, but I have veto power." Kurt smiles back.

"Deal."

Kurt checks his blind spots as Blaine plays with different buttons on the radio. He doesn't recognize the song immediately but Blaine stops on a specific channel, humming to himself.

_And there's two more lonely people  
In the world tonight  
Baby, you and I  
Are just two more lonely people  
Who gave up the fight_

Kurt muses to Blaine, "Miley used to be so good, you know, before her career fell into shit." And Blaine hums in agreement.

_If love don't change your mind  
Then there's two more lonely people tonight_

They listen to a song that none of them would probably admit they have listened to countless times in a silent bliss. The song ends and Blaine makes grabby hands at the radio, "No, Miley, come back."

Kurt throws his head back and laughs. The next song also happens to be hauntingly familiar. It's been such a long time since Kurt had listened to music so it takes a moment to recognize the song.

_I'm sitting across from you  
And dreaming of the things I do  
I don't speak, you don't know me at all_

He hears Blaine singing to himself in at least an octave lower than the singer. He's mesmerized by the harmony of two beautiful voices and how Blaine's voice is full of emotion. When Kurt risks a glance at Blaine's direction he has a faraway look on his face, lost in memories, he supposes.

_You mean the world to me but you'll never know  
You could be cruel to me  
While we're risking the way that I see you  
That I see you_

Kurt lets himself get lost in his thoughts as well and reminisce over his past, when the future was brighter and not this bleak abstract of "whatever"-ness he feels right now.

_You never knew me at all but I see you  
But I see you_

He can no longer hear the strong tenor in the background so he looks curiously at Blaine, only to find that the boy is looking at him with a strange awestruck expression.

"Your voice is beautiful," Blaine says dazedly. Kurt didn't even realize that he'd started singing the chorus but stops immediately. Blaine continues nevertheless, "it's amazing, your voice is so unique. I swear it's the same pitch as the singer. I'd do anything to be able to sing like you"

_Freak._

_You sing like a girl. _

His hands shake on the steering wheel. He stops the car when he feels it sway dangerously under his hand. He's not going to have an accident the first week he gets his car back. Blaine touches his shoulder and he jerks away, his other shoulder hitting hard against the window.

_You do realize that this song is meant to be sung by a woman?_

_The girl's bathroom is next door._

"Change the channel," he states without any emotion.

"What?" the boy looks at him dumbfounded and Kurt almost shouts at him, "I'm using my veto power. Change the fucking channel."

Blaine wastes no time and turns off the radio immediately. Kurt focuses on breathing regularly through his nose. Drawing slow, exaggerated breaths.

"Do you want me to drive?" Blaine asks when Kurt starts the car.

"Don't worry. I'm fine. I won't get you killed." Blaine doesn't say anything. He continues to stare at Kurt, his eyes gone wide and his hands in front of him like he's approaching a wounded animal.

"I'm sorry." Kurt whispers, looking straight ahead.

Blaine shrugs and smiles to assure Kurt that it's okay. He then proceeds to an elaborate competition with himself in spotting different cars.

"Yellow car." Blaine almost jumps up in his seat in excitement.

"So, let me get this straight. Each time you see a yellow car you have to say…"

"Yellow car. Yes, Kurt. You're so smart." Blaine rolls his eyes.

"Are there even that many yellow cars in Lima?"

"You'd be surprised. Of course, I have other variations."

"Such as?"

"Black car. Motorbike. Ice-cream truck." Blaine shrugs, staring eagerly outside the window, rubbing his hands together.

"But when does this game end?"

"Oh, it never ends." Blaine replies solemnly.

_Forest Gump,_ passes quickly in Kurt's mind and he bits back his laughter. Blaine's eyes scan him nonetheless and he returns his smile.

Finally they reach their destination, to the building when it holds many bad memories for both of them. But right now, it's hard to remember any.

"Can I have your number?" Blaine asks shyly and both boys blush. "You know, this was nice. I mean, friendly nice. Not… But, if you want to do this again…" Kurt laughs silently at Blaine's rambling, squashing the butterflies in his stomach as he hands out his phone.

Blaine types out enthusiastically, almost dropping the phone in the floor in his haste before offering a warm, genuine smile and wave. He skips before Kurt has a chance to say goodbye. Kurt waves back, even though the boy is several feet away.

He drives back home, only then noticing the time and how he'd been filled by images and thoughts of _Blaine,_ instead of his usual pity party.

Well, except from his near breakdown. But, he managed to not scare Blaine away. He even got his number. Kurt fist-pumps the air and laughs giddily. The sound feels odd and he can feel adrenaline rushing in his veins, making him see…colors.

* * *

_Two More Lonely People – Miley Cyrus_

_I See You - Mika_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Extra early chapter update! I was overwhelmed by the number of people who encouraged me to continue writing this. So, I had to give you all a brand new chapter. Just keep your fingers crossed that I won't fail my exam tomorrow.

Also, I have a tumblr, yay! I don't have much activity with it, but I'd love to see some familiar faces there. So, my link is: precious-passenger.

* * *

When Kurt woke up, it was still dark outside. Typical morning for Kurt Hummel. He put his hand over his chest, willing the heartbeat to slow down as he pondered over the dream. It had been such a long time since he had nightmares about various memories of his time at McKinley. He didn't know if it was a good sign or bad. After his suicide attempt the pills knocked him out cold, providing a shallow but restful sleep. Now that he was on a different, milder medication, the nightmares were back. Kurt wondered briefly if he should mention to Blaine that he wasn't on Zoloft, that he'd lied so he wouldn't seem like a pathetic gay teen depending on sedatives to go through his life. He shook his head at himself. Too early. He only met Blaine once. It was so like Kurt to get too friendly, too quick, he scolded himself.

Kurt got up, stretching his arms and rubbing his sleepy eyes. He decided on a long shower to get ready for a busy day in coffee shop. He worked part-time, because that was how much the manager afforded to pay him. He took orders and cleaned the tables and washed the dishes. The last two were the most relaxing and mind numbing activity. Taking orders… not so much. He had to be careful that the scar on his wrist didn't show up and gross the customers when he was busy taking notes. He also had to pay attention to the nuances each person had and be extra polite even when they behaved like shit, for a couple more dollars of tip.

No, Kurt wasn't going to think like that. It was a job, an activity to keep him busy and his parents and therapist happy.

He turned on the shower and sighed. He had a hectic day ahead and this shower was going to be the only opportunity to prepare himself for it.

* * *

Kurt's phone rang in his pocket. He politely thanked the elderly couple and nearly rolled his eyes. If the caller was Carole, or worse, his dad, reminding him to eat breakfast he was going to flip out. Kurt wasn't a kid needing to be reminded of his daily routines. There were just some times that he couldn't convince himself to put the food in his mouth. The thought of food was enough to make him sick. So what that he skipped breakfast or lunch …or dinner. He ate plenty enough. More than he deserved, really.

His internal discussion hit pause when he saw the number calling him. He glanced around to make sure nobody was there to nag for not giving service to customers before answering.

"Blaine?"

"Hello, stranger!" Blaine's chipper voice was…refreshing, to say the least. Kurt could feel a small smile tugging on his lips.

"Hi," he replied shyly.

"So, I was thinking…yesterday I kept going on and on about this amazing place I had lunch at and then I noticed, silly me, you must've wanted to see there."

"Oh, it's alright."  
"Anyway, I'm planning to go again today, you wanna come?"

"Actually Blaine, I'm working."

"So, we'll go when you're on your break. I'll come pick you up." Blaine argued.

The boy wasn't getting the hint now, was he?

"Listen, Blaine…"

"Kurt, be honest. Do you actually have any plans for lunch today?"

"No, but…" he looked around, trying to come up with an excuse.

"So, it's settled. Consider yourself kidnapped." Blaine told happily.

"You don't even know where I am." Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'll hunt down every coffee place in Lima and I'll find you." Blaine's attempt at sounding menacing was less than convincing. "But it might help if you actually tell me where you work your magic."

Oh, well. He couldn't escape it. He sighed, resigned.

"I'm working in Lima Bean. Do you know where it is?"

"Do gays like fashion?" Kurt laughed at that.

"Did you just stereotype yourself?"

"Yep. See you in say, two hours?"

"Fine, see you."

Kurt doesn't notice Blaine arriving an hour later. He's too busy dodging the spit drops from the middle age woman, complaining her iced tea was too cold.

* * *

They drove in Kurt's car, with Blaine eagerly providing direction. Neither of them had touched the radio. It seemed that Blaine didn't want to push him to his limits like, _was it only just yesterday?_

"We're here!" he announced proudly after Kurt pulled to a stop.

The place had a glass display and somebody decided to say "hell to the no" to design and throw whatever paint it could find on it. On the very top there was a rather comical drawing of a girl eating several sandwiches at once with a writing saying, "Snow White and the Seven Hotdogs".

"What is this place?" Kurt took in his surroundings in utter shock.

"Told you it was amazing." Blaine clapped his hands happily.

"The display is a girl stuffing her face in sandwiches, how is that amazing?"

"They're hotdogs." Blaine replied, as if it made a difference. "It promotes healthy body image."

"Healthy body image, my ass. The title looks like a bad porn movie." Kurt grumbled loudly.

Blaine's eyes widened in surprise and he stepped away, looking mock scandalized.

"Only you, Kurt. Only you."

But when they entered, the place got even more interesting.

"It's a freaking kid's place. It's got high chairs and toys…"

"Yeah, amazing…" Blaine sighed happily, oblivious to Kurt's growing disbelief.

"Color books, Blaine…they have color books." He muttered.

They order two specials, which of course came with a toy box and a paper hat. Kurt was too hungry to even suggest going to another place. Besides, he has to be blind not to see that Blaine is too happy, laughing with the kids and playing, yes _playing, _with the toys set on each table, so he didn't have the heart to put his foot down and sulk too much about it.

"Can you fit in there?" he points out a swing clearly meant for toddlers.

"I could try," Blaine muses, as if debating the possibility.

"Are you even real?"

Blaine poked his arm with a toy soldier.

"Ow," Kurt rubbed the spot. That thing was hard.

Blaine got up when their number got called.

"Yep, very real."

* * *

It's been a week of this weird friendship and Kurt and Blaine could be rarely seen apart. Blaine had soon become one of the regulars in Lima Bean. The first one in and the last one out. He usually had a laptop or a magazine with him and claimed to be there because of the free Wifi. But, he would patiently wait for Kurt's breaks or distract him when difficult customers were giving him hell.

So, it had been easy to lose the track of the time while they got cooped up yet again in the ice-cream shop as a not so celebratory occasion of their one week friendship. The conversation had been flowing easily and no longer one-sided, Kurt noticed in surprise.

It was already getting dark when he brought Blaine back to the parking lot across the therapy office. Like last time he watched Blaine disappear without a proper goodbye.

Kurt had just finished washing his face when he heard his phone ring. It was Blaine. He looked at the time. If it had been a year ago, he would be too busy putting a goop of lotion on his face to notice or even react to the sound.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kurt. How's it going? Long time, no see, huh?"

Something was off, Kurt knew right away.

"Blaine, we just met. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Does something have to be wrong so I could call my friend?"

By that time Blaine's voice was shaking uncontrollably. Kurt could only imagine the look on his face.

"Blaine?" his voice came out barely a whisper.

"Kurt, could you talk to me, please?"

"Talk to you?" Kurt felt like a parrot, repeating, but the boy didn't make any sense. He listened carefully to the background noises on his cell.

"Blaine, are you outside?"

"Yes, I am. I missed the last bus. So, I have to walk home. Jolly good." Blaine laughed, but it sounded like he was sobbing. Kurt immediately grabbed his car keys and jacket, heading straight outside.

"Where are you? Do you want me to come and get you?"

"No, I'm fine."

Kurt stood in the front porch, unsure what to do.

"Kurt, Kurt, are you there?" Blaine's voice was filled with panic and it slashed at Kurt's heart.

"I'm here. Don't be scared. I'm thinking how to get your ass rescued. Are you far from the parking lot I dropped you off?"

Blaine told him the approximate address he was in, which was one or two bus stops away. He would get there normally in less than half an hour. Kurt jumped inside the car. He could make it in fifteen minutes.

"It's so dark, Kurt."

Kurt cursed under his breath. He put the phone on speaker and started the car. Then he remembered something his parents, especially his mom, did to keep him calm.

"I'm coming right where you are, okay? Just find someplace and sit. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I'm sitting."

"Okay, very well. Now sing something, anything that comes to mind."

"What?" Blaine's voice sounded less squeaky and terrified. He sounded more like himself. Good.

"Come on. Don't argue. Sing." Kurt told him encouragingly.

Silence filled the car and Kurt opened his mouth to speak when he heard a soft voice pouring in the speakers.

_"You think I'm pretty ,without any make-up on … You think I'm funny, when I tell the punch line wrong… I know you get me, so I'll let my walls come down, down"_

Blaine messed up the lyrics and missed a few words, but Kurt could hardly blame him. But he could hear that Blaine wasn't on the verge of losing it. He could feel himself relax with the boy.

_"You make me … Feel like I'm living a, teenage dream"_

However the comfortable bubble was burst by Blaine panicky voice. "Kurt, I think something's coming in my way."

"I'm on the road. I'll be there in less than ten minutes."

"I'm going to see what it is. Will you tell my parents that I'm sorry and I loved them, okay?"

A few minutes silence filled the car. There was no answers to Kurt's panicked "Blaine?" calls.

"It was a can of coke," came Blaine's relieved voice. "I nearly wet myself for a can of coke. Can you believe that? How pathetic is that?"

Blaine was really sobbing by then. Kurt cursed himself and his helplessness. He couldn't calm the boy down by muttering "Shh" over and over. His voice wavered a second and his heart beat rapidly while he tried to force himself go through his plan.

_"Do, A deer, a female deer...Re, A drop of golden sun."_

His throat was blocked and he said brokenly, "come on, Blaine. Sing with me. I'm revoking your gay card if you don't know this song."_  
"Mi, A name I call myself…Fa, A long, long way to run."_

Blaine joined him only to chant the notes, _"So", "La", "Ti"_. He took the lead on the second time.  
_"That will bring us back to Do... oh oh oh"_

How many times they had repeated the song over and over again, Kurt didn't know. But he could pinpoint the exact moment when he saw the curly head with his head bowed and his phone clutched tightly in his hand.

"Blaine, honey. Look up. I'm right here."

Kurt find himself parking the car in a side of the road and holding the boy tightly to his chest in no time. Blaine was shaking, his entire frame wrecked by whimper and trembles. When his sobs died down, Kurt held his arms, slightly shaking him.

"Blaine, you silly goose. Why didn't you tell me you don't have a car? I would've dropped you off at your place."

Blaine led him back to his car, never letting his hand go. The tear tracks were visible on his face and he was white as sheet.

"I wasn't sure if I could ask you that. We've only been friends for a week. Can we go inside the car now?"

"I can't believe it. You're terrified of dark and now you're shying away from me."

He took Blaine's cold cheeks in his hands. "Blaine, listen to me. This is serious. I want you to be honest with me. No more shyness, okay? You're going to be as shy as a stripper with me."

Blaine laughed at that. Kurt was glad to see that the color was slowly returning to his face.

"Who's the freak now? So eager to get me out of my clothes now, huh?"

"You wish."

"Oh, I do." Blaine attempted to bat his eyelashes and failed miserably.

"Really, Blaine, really? Get out of my car, you creep." Kurt shooed him away, nearly shaking in laughter.

They had reached Blaine's house in less than three minutes and were stalling for some time.

"Thank you, Kurt. For today… and everything."

"Don't make a habit of it." Kurt teases to lighten the suddenly tense mood.

"I'm serious, Kurt. I owe you, heaps."

And with that he opened the door and leapt out of the car. Kurt shook his head in amusement. He waited until the boy got inside, not wanting to risk another meltdown.

Blaine turned around, searching his bag in a sudden distress. Did he forget something? His keys, his phone? Kurt turned the extra light in the car on to inspect it more carefully. His phone buzzed once.

_In my old school, my date and I were attacked during the Sadie Hawkins dance._

"What?" Kurt bellowed loudly, looking up to meet Blaine's sad eyes. Blaine was crying again, a single finger on his lips, a sign for silence. He shook his head when he saw Kurt getting out of the car and mouthed,"Talk to you later," before turning away to the open door and going in the house.

* * *

Teenage Dream – Katy Perry

Do, Re, Mi – Julie Andrews

* * *

A/N: I'm so nervous for posting this chapter and would love some feedback on how it was, please!


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt didn't realize how he got home or how he even managed to start the car and move from the front of Anderson household. He stumbled on Finn's bag thrown carelessly on the floor and grumbled under his breath all the way to his room. He sprawled across his bed and closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. A sharp knock on the door interrupted his medication and he groaned loudly, offering the friendliest "come in" he could manage. His dad's face appeared on the doorstep and Kurt sat up, unsure of what to do or how to react. Burt seemed to be hesitant too, like he didn't know how he ended up in the room. Kurt watched his dad scan his room and couldn't help but throw a few judging glances around himself. Most of his clothes and accessories, his collection of scarves, for example, were untouched. His laptop hadn't been turned on in days. The only change over the day was a pack of nutrition bar Carole left on the kitchen counter for him that he forgot to return in to its box. In short, his room was too neat. Of course, he was never the one to keep his stuff in a Finn-level chaos, but his room felt like he had graduated and left…or died.

Kurt shuddered at that thought. He wondered who had been the one cleaning his room after… Did his dad see all that blood? Is that the cause of all the cautious observation? Did they just rolled up the rug and threw it out or just stared at it for days, unsure of what to do and how to approach his crazy suicidal son?

Burt cleared his throat once and Kurt tensed up. "Kurt, buddy, you got home a bit late. I…I guess I just wanted to check on you. See if you're okay…"

"I'm fine, dad." Kurt replied on auto-pilot, then after a second thought added, "I lost track of the time. I was with Blaine."

Burt smiled warmly at that. "Good. That's good. So you had dinner, then?"

"Umm, yeah." _Ice cream was dinner…kind of. _

"He's treating you right?" Burt asked calmly, his eyes glistening dangerously.

"Dad, please. We're just friends…and yes, he's treating me right." _When he isn't the main cause of giving me gray hair._

"Okay, then. I guess I should let you sleep. You've got to get up early tomorrow. Goodnight, son."

"Night, dad." Kurt said and they stared at each other for a long moment. It seemed like Burt wanted to reassure himself that his son would still be there, alive and breathing in the morning. Kurt was also fighting the tightness in his throat and how tears suddenly filled his eyes. The distance between father and the son was back full force, all the progress they had made in two years vanished and Kurt had no idea how he could fix it, or even if it could be fixed. He only knew that there seemed to be an invisible wall in front of him, forbidding him of hugging his dad and it seemed that the feeling wasn't one-sided.

Kurt leaned back on his bed with a thump, turning off the light, not caring about changing his clothes or even brushing his teeth. He looked at his phone, pushing a random button when the screen dimmed. He stared at the message until sleep took him in.

_In my old school, my date and I were attacked during the Sadie Hawkins dance._

* * *

Kurt bolted upright in his bed, sweating and breathing hard like he'd been running a marathon.

Screaming. His nightmare had been about screaming. He'd been having a day, like usual, but he screamed and yelled at everyone. His dad, Carole, Finn, that old couple in the coffee shop…and Blaine.

When he calmed down enough, he realized he'd fallen asleep with his phone in his hands. He checked the time, three in the morning. Great, just great.

He tried to empty his mind, imagining a blank canvas, simple tricks that his therapist told him to do before going to sleep. But one single splash of paint wouldn't just leave. Blaine and what should Kurt do with him?

He's going to talk to Blaine tomorrow when he came to the coffee shop. How dare he spring this kind of information on him without any real explanation?

Kurt remembered the street he'd found Blaine in. It hadn't been that dark. Kurt had been able to spot Blaine from a distance without turning his lights on. But Blaine had been trembling in his arms like he'd seen a ghost.

He moved to his desk, ripping out a page from his notebook and wrote the first sentence.

_How to deal with Blaine Anderson:_

He crossed out the sentence a few times, until he came up with, "_How should I be around Blaine_".

Immediately he listed some of Blaine's personality traits that had come to light over the past week. PTSD and depression could be related to the attack, whatever it was. Was it an animal attack, were they mugged…and Kurt spared the last, scariest thought, afraid to voice it out…was he attacked because his date was also a boy?

Kurt snapped out of his daydreams and realized that the page was now full of full hearts with _K+B _drawn in different places. There were also some drawings of what seemed to be a stickman with massive case of curls and a smiley face, holding hands with another taller, unhappy stickman. Kurt blushed and tossed the paper in the trash can.

Whatever all this was and no matter how much Kurt wanted to shake the boy and demand that he'd spill all his dark secrets to him, he couldn't do it. Not with Blaine. For whatever reason Blaine had chosen to stick with him and never complained when Kurt was on a bitchy mood or avoided to open up about a subject. He was going to respect the boy's privacy and be satisfied with how much or how little Blaine would confide in him, he decided.

He turned to a new page. He was going to follow one simple rule.

_How should I be around Blaine_.

_Just ask yourself: What would Blaine Anderson do? and do it the best way you can._

He stared at the line he'd just written, smiling and satisfied. He's got to go shopping tomorrow…

* * *

Blaine, however, didn't come when he usually did. Kurt often glanced at the door and more than once debated texting the boy. The customers didn't let him have a moment to breathe, either. They took ages to order and when they finally decided on something, they complained about it not being right. His boss gave him an evil eye and he was lectured for ten straight minutes for the amount of complaints she received for his poor service. It didn't help his case that he was fifteen minutes late to his shift. He had to look around in a few more shops than he originally planned.

Kurt was visibly shaking in anger and he could feel his fake smile stretch across his face as he waited a group of teenagers trying to decide and calculate their orders. He glanced around and there was Blaine, looking somberly at him from his usual table. He had to wait a few more minutes before getting to Blaine.

"You should quit your job here, they treat you like shit." Blaine stated bluntly.

Kurt rolled his eyes and ignored his comment.

"Are you ready to order?"

"No, I just want you…sitting here, I mean." Blaine muttered miserably, not looking him in the eyes and Kurt immediately felt a pang in his chance. He could afford a break. Or rather, he could give himself a break and the not care about the scolding.

"Okay, I'm here. Talk to me," he said, his hand unsurely hovering over Blaine's outstretched one which was clasping the salt container.

"There's nothing to talk about," Blaine stated in a sad voice.

"You could start by saying why you arrived late?" Kurt asked, worried by the shrunken state the boy was.

"I had an emergency appointment for… you know, for my panic attack." Blaine said, now staring at his hands. Kurt nodded and took the pepper container and twirled it once.

"Do you want me to get you a coffee?" he offered when the silence dragged on.

"It's just paralyzing me and I can't stop seeing it… these memories or nightmares, I don't know…but I hate it, I hate being this weak."

"You're not weak, Blaine." Kurt started, but Blaine held up a hand, cutting him off effectively.

"I can't sleep without a night light. I have to hug Mr. Fuzzy or I'll wake up screaming and crying. Most of the times I behave like I'm a fucking six year old, because my mind apparently likes to go back to when it was a kid…" He laughed bitterly and the sound raised goose bumps on the back of Kurt's neck. He began slowly drawing shapes on Blaine's palm, but the boy didn't seem to notice.

"Or at least, that's what Susan thinks." Then it hit Kurt. The earliest time Dr. Adams admitted patients was twelve o'clock. It was nearly one o'clock now. Blaine must've come here right after his appointment. That's why he was feeling this sad and dejected. He got up from his seat without even registering in his mind that he'd done so, ignoring the sad, terrified look Blaine gave at the possibility of Kurt abandoning him and slid to Blaine's side, pulling him in a hug.

"She calls it "Playful Blaine"…fuck playful Blaine." Blaine sobbed on his shoulder.

"I feel fake, Kurt. I feel like a coward." Kurt hummed a random tune under his breath, knowing that it wouldn't matter how many times Kurt told him that he was brave and strong and beautiful. Blaine calmed down after a few minutes, now only sniffling sadly, head resting on Kurt's shoulder. It was very natural for Kurt at that moment to dry Blaine's eyes with a soft napkin on the table and then lean in and gently place a kiss on his cheek. It seemed that neither of them cared about their surroundings and were just wrapped inside a bubble with only the two of them in it.

"Teenage Dream?" Blaine whispered, and then Kurt realized what he'd been humming. He nodded and Blaine pulled away from the hug, glancing at the room with cautious eyes. Kurt returned to his previous seat in front of Blaine.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I got a present for you." Kurt remembered suddenly.

He pulled the object from the pocket of his apron, placing it in Blaine's hand. Blaine seemed to be in utter shock, looking as if he'd lost the function in his hands. He managed to smile and inspect further after a soft "go on," encouragement from Kurt.

He pressed the heart on the pig and two bright lights shined from the pig's nose right in his face. Blaine let out a startled yelp and blinked dazedly. He then began giggling and twirling the toy pig slash flashlight in his fingers. He then flashed the light at Kurt's face, his voice growly and low.

"Confess, Kurt Hummel. Where did you hide the body?"

"Oh, I swear, officer. I don't know what you are talking about." Kurt played along, barely containing his laughter.

This was Kurt's gift, and he hoped that Blaine appreciated the gesture. No matter how childish or how damaged he thought he was, Kurt wouldn't judge him and would support him, like a friend. A best friend.

"Hummel! Those tables aren't going to clean themselves." A sharp shrill of voice called out from the registry table.

"Fuck you too." Kurt muttered, getting up. Blaine held Kurt's hand and gave it a soft squeeze, his eyes overflowing with the gratitude his brain couldn't find the words to voice it.

"I'm here," he managed to finally say.

"I know," Kurt squeezed back and turned to face his angry boss.


End file.
